Rwanda - 1994 Genocide

WARNING: VERY GRAPHIC

After sitting in on 2 small court trials of the Rwanda tribunal in Arusha, Tanzania, I wanted to tour a genocide museum or memorial in Rwanda. In 2003 this was not an easy thing to do. Most Rwandans had tried to put the past (the 1994 genocide) behind them. There were no huge signs saying "Look, the genocide was here!" There were only small reminders in select parts of the country. Even when I asked a couple of people if they could tell by looking at someone if he/she is a Tutsi or Hutu the response was always, "We are Rwandans."

To my surprise there was not anything like a museum or memorial in Kigali. My Lonely Plant guide book mentions 2 locations about 30-60 minutes south of Kigali. I asked the tourist information office in Kigali about this. The woman said there was a big memorial about 20 minutes north of Kigali. I told her I wanted to go. She said I needed to write a letter to some government group or organization. I needed written permission. She made it sound like it really was not an option for me.

Later while I was in Rugengari waiting to view the mountain gorillas, I met a New Zealand couple. We eventually discussed the genocide memorials. They said that they heard of a very big one near Butare, actually in a town about 26 KM west called Ginkorongo. It was not mentioned in the Lonely Planet travel guide but it was mentioned in a Japanese guide book. I thanked them for the information and said I would check it out once I got close to Butare.

Once I got to Butare I met a French woman, who helped me find a place to stay. It turned out that she was a professor. She came to Rwanda to do some research on the genocide. I told her I wanted to see a museum or memorial. She said that she knows a man who knew all the memorials in the country. He was staying in our same guest house. I should knock on his door and ask him. Later that day I ran into him. He gave me specific directions on how to get to the memorial near Gikongoro. The memorial is actually about 2 KM away in a place called Muranbi. I got all the information I needed and decided to head out to Muranbi the very next morning. The French woman warned me that maybe I should not go alone because it is psychologically very difficult. I was imaging Yad Vashem in Jerusalem but with visible bones around the grounds.

I took a minivan to Ginkogoro and began walking to Muranbi. The path was not straight. I stopped to ask directions 4 or 5 times. Eventually I hired a bicycle man to give me a ride the rest of the way. When I got off the bicycle I paid the man, gave him some banana bread, and asked him which direction to the memorial? He pointed forward towards the ghost town/abandon building. I really had no idea what I was going to see. With the help of the bicycle man I finally made it behind the first abandon building. Now I was on my own.

It looked like I was walking into a prison barracks but I was not 100% sure. There were metal bars that went around a bunch of buildings. This must have been where the containing fence was. There was also a big rusted spot light. It must have been used at night to watch for any prisoners trying to escape. I peaked in the first building expecting to find bones. I was trying to mentally prepare myself. I had no idea how I would respond. There was nothing in the room. I imagined it was a barracks with bunk beds and full of Tutsis in 1994. I moved on to the next room. Again, nothing. It was a little creepy being by myself. I started to listen to see if I could hear any ghosts of dead people milling around. Thank G-d--> nothing. I went into another building. It looked like it was where the toilets were. There were spaces for about 4 toilets.

Next I found a huge empty hall like a dining room for prisoners. The only thing it had was a dozen hanging ropes full of clothes. They looked like old clothes. I really did not think someone was doing their laundry here but I wasn't sure. When I got closer I could see the clothes had dust and mold on them. These were probably from 1994 but I still was not 100% sure.

The next building I went into also had small rooms. For sure I was expecting to see some bones. I crept around the corner. Again, nothing. In one of the doorways there was some writing. It said "Dark room, Cell No. ?" Now I knew for sure I was at a prison. I started wondering where the gas chambers were or where the shooting lines were. There must be graves around somewhere. I went in search of the dead bodies and shooting line. Each building I looked into I saw nothing. I thought there must be something otherwise the French woman would not have said that this place was so psychologically difficult. Empty rooms could not be all. Some of the rooms were locked but that didn't make me suspect anything. Suddenly I heard voices. I turned around to see who was there. Again, it was a little unnerving being there all by myself.

Two men approach me. One puts out his hand to greet me. He has something metal in his left hand that I did not recognize. At first I thought, "Is it a gun? Is it a weapon?" I reach into my pocket to get my Swiss army knife ready. I watched carefully. He must have seen my eyes looking at it. He shook my hand. I recognized the other man as my bicycle man. He must have gotten this man for me. I followed him. He only spoke French. I could not ask any questions. I did determine that yes indeed this was a prison for Tutsis. The man took me to a room I had not seen yet. It was one of the locked rooms. He used the metal piece in his left hand to unlock it.

Now in front of my eyes were about 30 corpses lying on 4 wooden table like structures. I could see skin stuck to bone. Some skeletons had hair. Some had clothes and some had teeth. I had never seen anything like this before in my life. It was shocking. The most gruesome part was the position of the skeletons.

We went from room to room with the same twisted figures. Some young, some old, some men, and some women. I took several photos. I could see where machetes were taken to some skulls. A child's legs were broken. They were split apart.

A woman's hands were tied together and she was looking back at them in agony. Several children's heads were knocked against a wall.

Room after room I saw the same gruesome images. I held my breath as I entered each room. I decided I should breathe deeply at least once. It was important for me to know what death smells like. I inhaled and almost gagged. The odor was repugnant. I was not sure exactly what I smelled. I know some chemicals must have been used to preserve the skin and bones and teeth, but I did not know what. It did not really matter. It smelled awful and it was appropriate for the scene. After about 10 rooms of dead bodies, I said I had seen enough.

The man showed me one more room just of dead children. I looked, I took a picture, and I said finished. I then took one picture of the entire compound, a picture of bones that had been dug up, and one picture of some graves with flowers.

My tour was over at this point. It was definitely more than I bargained for. I began to walk back towards Ginkorongo. Fortunately for me I met several happy children along the way that helped lift my spirits.

Rwanda - Mountain Gorillas

It was a very tough 3 day journey by multiple buses, a shared taxi, and a motorbike from Arusha, Tanzania to Kigali, Rwanda. Buying tickets and getting to the buses were so challenging that I had to involve the police on 3 separate occasions. The level of harassment and deceit was unbelievable in Tanzania. I had gotten into such a heated argument with one of the ticket sellers in one Tanzanian town that I had to ask for a police escort to my hotel to pick up my backpack, return with me to the bus station, and wait with me until the bus left. In order to get to the border crossing from Tanzania into Rwanda I had to share a taxi with a family of 5. In the shared taxi the youngest child squeezed his mother's nipple and breast milk squirted out all over my arm. I just had to laugh since this scene was so outrageous. Since I arrived late in Kigali, the capital city of Rwanda, I jumped on the back of a motorbike "taxi" to maneuver through the unfamiliar streets of Kigali in the dark in pursuit of a hotel. Of course my driver wanted more money than we had agreed upon before I hopped on. I gave him the money we had agreed upon and abruptly walked away. This was definitely a rough journey to get into Rwanda. Let's just say I took the path less traveled.

My plan was to see the mountain gorillas in the Parc National des Volcans where Dian Fossey conducted much of her primate research. If the name sounds familiar it is because most Americans were introduced to her from the biographical movie "Gorillas in the Mist" staring Sigourney Weaver. In order to see the mountain gorillas you must first buy a mountain gorilla permit at the Rwanda Tourism Board in Kigali. Once the mountain gorilla family is sighted, you are only permitted to view them for a maximum of 1 hour. There are 4 mountain gorilla families to pick from, when buying your permit. There is a family of 4, 6, 12, or 24. The family of 24 is situated higher up on the mountain and in a more densely forested jungle. In other words, you are advised to be in good physical shape since you may have to hike up the mountain and through the jungle for several hours. I purposely selected the family of 24. I even wrote it on my $250 ticket. That's right. It cost $250 for a 1 hour viewing. Nowadays the price can be as high as $500. Although this price may not sound completely unreasonable, in terms of buying power in Africa it is astronomical, but I knew this before I arrived. I bought my ticket to see the family of 24 and the next day took a 2 hour minivan ride to Ruhengeri, which is closer to the park.

As required, I made my presence known at the Office of Tourism near Ruhengeri. My presence would be communicated to the head ranger and I should report to the main station the next morning by 8 a.m. to start the trek to the family of 24 mountain gorillas. The main station is several miles out by dirt road. I had no idea how I would get there, but I would figure something out. From the tourism office I walked a couple of miles back into town and grabbed a bite to eat. I went to a little local restaurant. I got the impression that I was one of the first foreigners to eat there. It is not that foreigners never come to this town, it is the fact that most eat in restaurants that probably cater to foreigners. I personally prefer the ambiance of the local eatery because I wanted to hang out with people from Rwanda. Let me just say that they treated me like a very special guest. Although my Swahili was very limited, we were still able to communicate. (Aside - I really should have paid more attention in French class in high school. It would have come in handy in Rwanda.) The restaurant owner made an extra effort to make sure that my plate was clean, the food was cooked well and was presented nicely. I could not have felt more honored. Small gestures like these make the rough travel worth it. After lunch I spent the rest of the afternoon trying to figure out transportation to the main station for the next morning. After much time negotiating, one motorbike driver said he would do it. He would meet me the next morning at 7 a.m. in the same spot. Good. I had a plan.

The next day at 7 a.m. the motorbike guy is not in our meeting spot. There's no one around to take me to the main station. I start walking to the Office of Tourism, hoping I could find a ride somehow. Low and behold my motorbike guy finds me. He thought I was meeting him somewhere else. It is now closer to 7:30 a.m. I hop on the motorbike and away we go. The dirt road was curvy and full of rocks and pot holes. With one hand I held onto the motorbike and with the other hand I held down my chest. I thought one of my breasts was going to give me a black eye. I was getting concerned because it was getting late, and I was supposed to be at the main station by 8 a.m. At about 8:10 a.m. I jump off the motorbike, told my driver to wait, and I ran into the main station. The tourist group was still there. I hadn't missed my trek.

I told the ranger that I was there to see the mountain gorilla family of 24. He told me that no one is viewing the family of 24 today but he instead put me in the group of 6. I was furious. There is a big difference between 24 gorillas and 6 gorillas. I paid too much to let this one slide. I told him I would not go. I signed up for the family of 24 and that is the only group I will go see. He should tell me the next time he is going to trek to the family of 24 and I will come back then. I can come back tomorrow, in 1 week, in 2 weeks, or whenever. My schedule was open and I could work around his viewing dates for the 24 mountain gorillas. I think he was shocked. First because I refused to go with the smaller group and second because I arrived on a motorbike by myself. Because of the Rwanda genocide in 1994 most foreigners are too scared to go to Rwanda. Most stay in Uganda, take a very early minivan ride to Rwanda, view the gorillas, and ride back to Uganda on the same day. I was a woman alone in Rwanda (not coming from Uganda) and coming to the main station by hired motorbike. After accessing the situation he realized that I was going to stand my ground. He told me he would most likely be taking a group the next day. I could join that group. As I mentioned, my Swahili was very limited. I asked the ranger to explain the situation to my motorbike driver. My motorbike driver should meet me in the same place, bring me back the next morning and for the same price. Done. I told the ranger I would definitely be back the next morning to view the family of 24 mountain gorillas.

I took the motorbike ride back into town. Just to make sure that indeed I would be viewing the mountain gorillas the next day, I took the 2 hour minivan ride back to Kigali. I complained at the main Office of Tourism, where a day earlier I had given my $250. The woman behind the desk called the ranger's main station and did in fact confirm that I absolutely would be able to view the family of 24 mountain gorillas the next day. I took the 2 hour minivan ride back to the town closest to the park.

The next morning I walked to the Office of Tourism near Ruhangeri. I lucked out this time because the tour group was meeting there in a minivan and had room for me to take the ride up to the ranger's main station. I thanked my motorbike driver and got in the minivan. The tour group turned out to be a group of young, Canadian(?) missionaries working in Uganda. They were taking a day trip into Rwanda to see the mountain gorillas. We began the trek by 9 a.m. There were 8 of us + 1 tour guide and 2 armed guards. One guard was at the front of the single file line and one guard was at the back of the single file line. They were there to protect us from a gorilla gone mad and also from the poachers that may be in the jungle. It took us much longer to get up the mountain than expected, since one of the missionaries was is very bad physical shape. She was overweight and huffing and puffing up the mountain. We had to stop frequently for her to catch her breath. I was very annoyed at this, since the brochure clearly stated that this trek was a tough one and only those in good physical shape should select this trek. The other three treks were much less strenuous. Of course these were missionaries and they were all very sweet. I could not bring myself to say anything negative. Instead I said, "I am glad we are stopping. This gives us a chance to really enjoy the scenery." In truth it was absolutely gorgeous on the mountain, but I was a little too p.o.ed to truly enjoy it.

At one point our guide received radio contact that the trackers found the gorilla family. We were directed to where the gorillas were roaming on this particular day. Before we actually got to the gorillas, the rules of behavior were reviewed. We were to stay in a single file line. We were not to talk or only talk in a whisper. We were to stay at least 20 feet away from the gorillas. It is O.K. if the gorilla comes closer but we are not to go closer. Part of this is for our safety and part of this is so that we do not get the gorillas sick. If a gorilla comes very close, do not look at it in the eyes. You should act timid and let the gorilla be in control. We may take pictures and use video cameras but no flash photography. I knew this in advance so I purchased higher speed film. In the end this choice did not work out so well and most of my pictures turned out a little bit blurry.

After all of the above difficulties, let me just say that seeing the mountain gorillas for an hour was AWESOME, AMAZING, INCREDIBLE!!!! I saw a mother with a baby. I saw two young brothers play-fighting. I saw an overweight female. I saw a couple of gorillas in the trees. I saw 2 male silverbacks. One of the silverbacks charged us and we coyly moved back. He was so close I could have touched him. My heart was beating fast. We heard a couple of loud chest pounds from the silverback to tell us whose territory it was and who was in charge. Again, AWESOME, AMAZING, INCREDIBLE!!!!!

Picture: Abigail with mountain gorilla over her right shoulder.

Would I do it again? You betcha! In a heartbeat.